


from inside the house

by justholdingstill (justholdstill)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Domestic Bliss, F/M, M/M, Multi, One Shot, Short & Sweet, book tour, lol jensen babysits, sparkling hints of filth, the kids are really only peripheral, utterly unrepentant fluff, vaguely implied misha/jensen/vicki/danneel, yay for polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:37:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21664228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justholdstill/pseuds/justholdingstill
Summary: "do you think Misha and Vicki have the world’s coolest babysitter?IDK I was just wondering because they’re both here and do they go “yeah we have to go to another book signing don’t give them sugar after 5 thaaanks”Now is that to a teenageror to Jensen"AKA: this is all @thebloggerbloggerfun‘s fault
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins, Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins/Vicki Vantoch, Misha Collins/Vicki Vantoch
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	from inside the house

_It's a horror movie_, Jensen says.

_where the fuck did you guys get this kid?_

_PINEAPPLE and JELLYBEANS on PIZZA_

**_There was a sale on at the maternity ward_**, Misha texts back. **_We traded in for the utility model_**

** _Somebody told us kids are expensive_ **

_she says she doesn't like bacon either_

_what the hell, man_

** _Okay, Dean_ **

_shut up_

** _No you shut up _ **

"I'm so glad to see our children are being raised by such shining examples of maturity and wisdom," Vicki says over his shoulder, her left eyebrow arched high over the rim of her glasses. He can't help but lean in and kiss it.

_West just started a sentence with, "when I'm old like you"_

_I stg, Mish_

_I do you a solid & drive over the border for THIS _

She laughs out loud. "So it's going well, then."

_those had better be some pretty dynamite sexual favors, buddy_

** _I have two words for you_ **

** _rim_ **

** _ming_ **

_fuck you_, Jensen sends back.

** _oh, is it my turn?_ **

And then they're at the next venue. 

It’s still totally a trip, because he’s the Leo and he’s the television actor and he’s the former theater kid. He’s the one constantly pulling stupid shit in front of cameras, whether it’s for the love of poetry, or of philanthropy, or of Jensen’s obnoxiously pretty face. This is Old Hat, and this is decidedly Not Her Scene, and yet he’s the one sweating through his shirt while she’s the one grinning and glowing and soaking it all in. Misha curses under his breath as he settles himself in his seat and wonders how he ever let the Smug Bastard portion of his brain take the wheel and convince him that she was gonna need him to hold her hand through any of these signings.

Somebody asks her what her favourite word is; he says, “it’s probably ‘Misha’, right?“

And that gets a laugh, but then she responds, “no, it’s ‘kerning’.”

She’s nothing less than a nerdy fucking goddess, and god help him, he might be head over heels in love with his wife. 

The bookstore is packed wall-to-wall but the line moves quickly. It’s a blur of smiling faces and endless first pages and heartfelt pleasantries that leave his face aching by the time they get to step out back for a quick break. He’s been exhausted beyond belief for the last week, but it’s also kinda…awesome. The security detail nod in acknowledgement and step off once he gives the signal, and then there’s space enough to breathe. Space enough to slip an arm around her waist and let the light from his phone screen illuminate her delicate bone structure as she leans in again to read the latest from Jensen.

_so how long do i let them jump on the bed before they actually conk out?_

_was JJ like this? I don’t remember her being like this_

_is this what I’m in for?_

_oh my god what have I done? _

Timestamped for half an hour later:_ you owe me._

And three quarters of an hour after that comes _third run of Moana shoot me now_

** _hey, when you can sing the lyrics to Shiny in your sleep, then we’ll talk_ **

_oh NOW you respond_

_Mr & Mrs famous book writers_

** _Sorry, we were busy signing books. Famously._ **

** _It’s all very glamorous_ **

** _I know you have no idea what that’s like_ **

_hey, fuck you_, Jensen says again.

Vicki snorts. “Well, you always did have a taste for the eloquent ones.” She grabs the phone from him, and before he can stop her, sends: **_Later_.**

Sends: **_Home in an hour. Be ready for us._**

He doesn’t know how Jensen knows that the conversation has switched hands, but he feels the same sharp quiver of anticipation in his own gut when Jensen texts back, lightning quick, _hell yes ma’am._

He’s always found it more than kind of weird to be interacting with fans and trying to hide the fact that he’s sporting a semi that won’t quit under the table at the same time, but it’s, you know. Not the first time.

At least he’s not on stage.

Jensen is not ready for them when they get home.

Misha doesn’t remember the last time they made out in a backseat, but Vicki hadn’t stopped whispering in his ear about precisely how they were going to wreck him since the engine turned over, and he’s never ever felt quite so self-satisfied with the external trappings of success as when he’d asked their driver, between gasps, to put up the privacy partition. That was bucket-list hot, and she’d run so roughshod over the last threads of his self-control that he’d been raring to go pretty much as soon as they’d walked in the door…

…only to get into the living room and find Jensen fast asleep on the couch with Maison tucked under one arm. West is at his feet, curled up under a blanket, his hand still in the bowl of popcorn.

“Fuck,” he says.

It’s the second most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

The emotional whiplash is shockingly intense; suddenly he’s gotta take a lap, which just means he wanders around in dazed circles for a minute while Vicki’s in the bathroom, and ends up in the kitchen, elbows on the counter and his hands fisted in his hair, trying to come to terms with how excessively, astonishingly lucky he is that somehow, all of this is his. His wife, their children, their house, his career, that ridiculously attractive man in there who has a ridiculously attractive wife of his own and a life that dreams are made of. A guy who released an album of his own, like, _yesterday_, and he has work tomorrow but he’s here getting his fingernails painted and his ass kicked on the trampoline by a nine-year-old just…because.

Because.

Oh yeah, it’s kind of awesome.

Vicki reels him in by his belt loop, gently pulls his hands away and resettles them down around her waist. She tugs him in tight against her and then crushes the breath out of him, forehead to forehead, nose to nose, and it’s perfect.

“I love you” comes so easily. It’s an embarrassment of riches.

West is way too damn heavy for this anymore, but he barely wakes up when Misha hauls him into his arms with a groan and carries him up to bed, even though with his hips he really shouldn’t. Maison goes a little easier, though she perks up when her head hits the pillow and demands a chapter of _The Golden Compass_, and by the time Misha gets the lights and gets back downstairs Jensen’s awake too, soft-eyed and yawning, and he and Vicki are into that bottle of mead they brought back from the island in the summer. It tastes like liquid sunshine when it spills from Jensen’s mouth into his.

And oh yeah.

It’s kind of awesome.


End file.
